Keep me in mind
by LittleMaple
Summary: Thinking that a change of ambient should give him some ideas for a new book, Arthur went to a park near to his flat. He just didn't expect a random stranger would ask to be written about. USUK. AU.


Arthur always loved books. Since he was a lonely, spoiled child, read was something he loved to do. He would stay all the day in the house's library, reading. And every time he was feeling sad or upset, buying books always cheered him up. Even after leaving his parents' house buying books kept being something he would do when feeling depressed - even though he wouldn't admit he was depressed.

He was yet a teen when he realised that reading isn't the only thing he loved to do. Writing was, too. And he was very good at it (his editor words). He wrote his frist book when he was nineteen. And then, with his twenty six years old and ten published books he was passing by his first and incredibly annoying creative block. When he was told about those writers blocks, he thought that that was an excuse for lazy people. But he was wrong. Because he could be called everything but lazy. He was dedicated. And focused. He loved his work. Nor being sick could keep him away from his notebooks or his laptop.

But his block was lasting too much, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Normally, he would went to the park near to his flat, walk for a while and sat in a bench, watch the people walking with their dogs, admire the birds flying over the lake and the kids playing in the playground (in the other side of the lake). And then he would hold his notebook and a pen, and write any kind of text he would want to. But then, even going to the park wasn't helping him. He sat in the same bench, looked at the same people and birds but that didn't help. The notebook sheet kept all white over the hour he was there.

With a deep sigh, he got up from the bench. If that place wasn't helping, maybe go to another place might do?

He gathered his stuff and walked through the park for a while. Then stopped next to another bench a few minutes after. There are more trees and less people than in the place he was before. That was a really quiet spot. He liked it. There was a blond haired man sitting in the only bench in the area and Arthur wondered if this man would matter if he sat in his side.

The Englishman dedided to ask.

"Excuse me, but can I..." he pointed to the bench as he spoke but his voice trailed off as he saw that the man wasn't paying attention. After a sigh he repeated louder, "Can I sit here?"

The blond man glanced Arthur. He looked pale - more than Arthur, and Arthur's mum always said that her son was too pale and that he should look for a doctor; she was afraid to lost him as she had already lost her husband, but Arthur always said he was fine and never did that. So he didn't care about the man being pale or whatever. He wasn't interested in other's problems. He just wanted to sit down and write.

"Are you talking to me?" the man had American accent, Arthur noticed.

"What do you think?" the British replied, rolling his eyes.

The American blinked, and then looked around as if he was looking for someone else. But nobody was near them. When he noticed that, Arthur was already a bit irritated. _This guy is messing with me, isn't he_?, he thought.

"Well... I think this bench is public, so yeah, you can sit" he finally replied, shrugging.

"Thank you." Arthur said dryly and sat in the bench.

They both were silent for a while, staring some fix and random point. So Arthur picked up his notebook, ignoring the man in his left side. And he was going to start to write something when the man called,

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

"I'm writing. Trying to, at least."

"Uh... So, what are you writing?" apparently, he hadn't noticed Arthur's sarcastic tone.

"I don't know. Anything would be good." Arthur just noticed what he had said after do it. He blinked and looked to the ground. Why did he was so honest? Arthur almost never talked about his block _problem_ with anyone (but his editor). _None needs to know about my problems_, he always said to himself. _So why did I tell that?_

"Uh..." the man murmured and then looked up to the Englishman's notebook. In the top of the page, he had wrote "A". The man smiled. "Alfred." he said looking at Arthur, that blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"It's Alfred."

"What is _it_?"

"It's my name!" the man grinned.

"And...?" Arthur wondered if the man was trying to be sociable. _Too bad_, Arthur thought, _because I don't want to. _

"Write it!"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Well, you said anything would be good! And you already have an A! Just write it! Write about me!"

"Why would I do that for?" Arthur frowned. He was annoyed. Who was that guy? He had never ever seen him before and there he was, all happy and asking to Arthur _write_ about him.

"As you yourself said..."

"I know what I've said." Arthur interrupted him. "But I don't want to just write a stranger's name at my notebook. That would be odd!"

"But we aren't strangers anymore! We've been next to each other for more than five minutes, and you already know my name!" Alfred cried. "... I don't know your name though."

Arthur blinked. He wasn't understanding anything. What that guy wanted, anyway? The British was starting to think that moving to that bench was a really bad idea.

"I won't write anything." Arthur finally said, sighing.

"What? Why?" Alfred sounded disappointed. Arthur didn't care. He put his notebook back in his briefcase and was about to got up and go back home - he was starting to get hungry and he, better than anyone else, knew that write while you're hungry doesn't work very well - when Alfred called, "Hey! I thought you wanted to write!"

"I do." Arthur looked at him. "But..." he stopped talking when a woman came walking in their way.

Arthur was just going to ignore her - because she wasn't that beautiful - but she smiled and sat in his side. Exactly where Alfred was. But when she sat, there weren't anyone there. Arthur was absolutly sure that Alfred _was_ there. They were talking! But... it was like he had disappeared.

Arthur stared the woman for a few seconds, wide-eyed.

"uh, Is something wrong? Is it my hair?" she asked confused while touching her hair looking for something out of place, but Arthur just shocked his head.

"No, sorry." he said and stood up.

Without saying anything else, Arthur went home. He stared his figure in the mirror and wondered what the bloody hell was Alfred. Arthur, out loud, asked himself if Alfred was something from his head or if he was just getting insane. The blond man in the mirror just imitated Arthur and Arthur thought the only thing he could do was take a shower and enjoy a wondeful cup of tea and forget that.

Alfred or whatever weren't real, Arthur said to himself. But he did write that name on his notebook anyway.

* * *

Though Arthur keep saying that thing back in the park was nothing but something he had imagined, he couldn't stop thinking about that. One doesn't just _disapear_ like that. It was true that Arthur did believe in ghosts and all, but... That didn't make any sense! Because he just keep thinking about all that, he decided to go back to the park.

_There won't be anything - or anyone - there. _He told to himself. _Nothing at all. _

But as Arthur approached the bench his heart almost stopped because Alfred _was_ there. And if Alfred was there that means he had indeed disapeared yesterday and that didn't make any sense to Arthur. A part of him didn't want to believe in something like that. But he couldn't let that go either. He needed to know more about that man who just disapeared all of a sudden. He needed to know what he was and why he was.

Arthur sat on the bench and stared Alfred.

"Hey" he greeted.

"What the... What the fuck are you? And how did you... did you disapeared...?" Arthur shouted the first things that came of his mouth. He hadn't thought in anything to say because he was trying to make himself believe there would be anything there to be said.

"Are you going to write about me today?" Alfred ignored the other man's questions and grinned.

"What?" Arthur said and blinked.

"Write about me." Alfred said and looked at the sky.

"Why?"

Alfred's grin disapeared for a second but was back in his face when he turned to glare at Arthur again. Arthur noticed he wasn't just pale - he was almost transparent now he stoped to look him better. "Because..." Alfred shrugged like he didn't care, "I can't stay long and I don't want to be forgotten.". Alfred looked to the sky again and Arthur thought that Alfred did care, though Arthur still didn't understand anything of that.

He had questions to do but Alfred disapeared when a man passed with his dog.

Arthur thought all that were much for him and the best thing he could do was go back home and forget that for once.

But he went back to the park in the very next day with his notebook. Alfred being a ghost or just his imagination didn't matter - as long as he could give Arthur something to write about, that was enough.

* * *

Should I continue? I'm thinking in something short - three or four chapters.  
By the way, if you read this... thank you very much! This is my first fanfic in English and I'm really anxious about it - and then I'm sorry for any typo or commas at weird places.


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